Belated Moonlight: He Regretted Only After I Left-Chapter 141: Shielding Her from All Malice and Storms

Chapter 141: Chapter 141: Shielding Her from All Malice and Storms

Stella’s fingers were tightly gripped in Shane Donovan’s palm.

His grip was very strong, his knuckles even somewhat stiff, as if he were using all his strength.

She could feel the warmth of his palm, higher than usual, with an abnormal heat, and... a slight sticky dampness.

The sensation was too abrupt, like a cold snake gliding swiftly past her heart.

She almost instinctively wanted to look down—

"Don’t look down."

Shane’s voice was so low, like a breath brushing past her earlobe, brief yet with an undeniable force.

He tightened his grip on her fingers even more, preventing her from any movement.

Stella’s heart contracted sharply, as if being fiercely squeezed by an invisible hand.

She stiffened her neck, forcing herself to maintain a forward gaze, yet the corner of her eye couldn’t help but glance at the cuff of his sleeve on the side near her.

The sleeve of the black coat, so dark it seemed to swallow all light.

But at the edge of that cuff, right next to the back of her hand, the dark fabric seemed wetter than elsewhere, faintly revealing a nearly somber hue.

Not rain.

Rain is cold, while this sensation is warm, sticky.

It’s blood.

This realization pierced through all her relief and joy like a fiery dagger.

Her breathing suddenly halted, her blood seemed to reverse, rushing to her limbs before freezing abruptly, bringing a suffocating chill.

He’s injured.

And has been bleeding continuously.

That’s why his steps were unsteady moments ago, why his face was unusually pale, why his voice was hoarse and low, not just because of recovering from illness, but also because...

He forced his heavily injured body to struggle out of some corner, just to stand in front of her when she was under scrutiny.

Shielding her from all malice and storms.

Her heart was submerged in a tsunami of pain and bitterness, overwhelmed instantly.

Her eyes suddenly heated, her vision blurred, she bit her lower lip fiercely, using all her strength to push back the overwhelming urge to cry.

Can’t cry.

Can’t cry here.

Can’t let his efforts go in vain. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

She discreetly adjusted the angle of her hand being held, gripped it tighter, as if trying to transmit her meager strength.

Her other hand quickly raised, threaded through his arm, tightly clinging to it, quietly taking on most of his weight, creating an intimate leaning posture.

Her fingertips touched the tense and... lightly trembling muscles on his arm.

He was surreptitiously resting his entire weight on what appeared to be her delicate support.

Stella’s heart felt as if it were being sliced, each cut excruciating, nearly suffocating her.

Yet she forced a very faint smile onto her face, slightly turned her head, neared him, with a voice only the two could hear, faintly choking, whispered: "Let’s go home."

Shane glanced down at her, his gaze deep, murmuring almost inaudibly, "Okay."

He allowed her to support him, as they walked step by step towards the car.

Their backs remained straight under the bewildered, skeptical, complicated gazes of the people.

Not far away, Rhys Lennox leaned in the shadow of the corridor pillar.

Rain drenched the golden strands of hair on his forehead, messily overlaying his brow, droplets sliding down the rebellious lines of his face.

He watched the two figures walking away, his usual impatient eyes now seeming as if soaked in the darkest ink, churning with an almost uncontrollable sullenness.

A blend of bitterness, unwillingness, and even a panic he himself hadn’t realized entangled his heart, tightening until suffocation.

He abruptly turned his face away, his jawline taut like a cold, hard stone, his tongue pressed against his molars, tasting a rusty flavor.

Damn.

He cursed quietly in his heart, not knowing who he was cursing.

...

The car drove steadily away from The Donovan Family’s old house, leaving that faux chaos far behind.

The windows were tightly shut, isolating the sound of the wind and rain outside.

In the instant the car door closed, Shane’s once stubbornly maintained breath relaxed.

He almost collapsed into the broad seat, sweat suddenly breaking out on his forehead, his face frighteningly pale.

"Shane Donovan!" Stella’s voice carried a sob, unable to hold back anymore, fumbling to check his arm.

The sleeve of the dark coat was carefully rolled up, revealing the white shirt underneath, its cuff thoroughly drenched in blood, adhesion to the skin, showing a glaring shade of dark red.

"I’m fine..." He tried to raise his hand to touch her face, to comfort her, but his arm was too heavy to lift, barely able to pull out a faint curve, his voice weakly audible, "Don’t be afraid..."

Stella’s tears finally broke forth, large tears splashing down; she dared not touch his wound, only desperately covered her mouth to stifle her sobs, her shoulders shaking violently from suppressed weeping.

"To the hospital! Quickly!" She yelled hoarsely at the driver in the front seat, her voice shattered.

The driver dared not slack, slammed the accelerator, the car shot through the rain like an arrow.

...

In the hospital corridor, the smell of disinfectant was pungent.

Shane was once again pushed into the emergency room, that cold door closing before her eyes, the glaring red light turned on.

Stella stood outside, soaking wet, lost, like a statue drenched by rain.

Her fingers still held the sticky sensation and warmth of his blood, a mix of cold and heat continuously searing her nerves.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

Julian Sullivan strolled over slowly, carrying the chill of the outdoors.

He glanced at the lit red light of the emergency room, then at Stella standing rigid at the door, her face pale as paper, and leaned against the opposite wall without expression.

"Relax, he won’t die."

His voice carried a mild taunt in its usual calm, "It’s just his wound tearing, combined with exhaustion, he passed out, that’s all."

Stella slowly turned her head to look at him, her eyes bloodshot, her voice painfully hoarse: "How severe are his injuries exactly? Wasn’t he awake? Why..."

"Awake doesn’t mean healed."

Julian interrupted her, pushed the bridge of his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze through the lenses settled on the emergency room door, carrying a complicated tension, "The explosion’s impact, the collision when falling into the river, along with massive blood loss... surviving is already a miracle."

He paused as if recalling some frustrating matter, his lips pulled into a sneer, his tone tinged with genuine disdain.

"He lay in ICU for so many days, I talked serious matters with him until my lips nearly chapped, he showed no response at all." Julian’s gaze shifted to Stella, "I tried mentioning your name in the end."

He stopped, watched her stunned expression, then slowly, somewhat amusedly, completed the sentence:

"Goodness! The ancestor directly opened his eyes!"